Italy's gone Berkserk!
by Xeni-Zero
Summary: Germany leaves on a business trip for a long time, leaving Japan in charge of Italy. Japan doesn't do a good job, and Italy decides something better than crying over Germany. I suppose you could say it's Germany X Italy. Rated Teen for minor violence, minor themes, and the likes.
1. Prolouge

Years after the attack between the Axis and Allies, they had formed a bond that could never be broken by war. They all laughed and visited each other, not a care in their minds. All for the Axis' side. Germany had left on a business trip, and would not be coming back for years. The last time they would see each other for several years was then. Germany had entrusted Japan with ownership of Italy until he came back. Soon after, Italy went onto a streak of uncontrollable sobbing. Nothing could cheer him up. He would lay in the bed they had shared and cry and cry, not another thought about the world around him in his mind. Japan had tried encouraging him that he would see him again, but nothing seemed to work. Italy just doubted it and sobbed. After a week of terrible crying, Italy gained some form of control. He drifted in and out of sleep, his dreams fuzzy and distorted. After awhile, the dreams got clearer. Germany was there, telling Italy to kill everyone. Kill everyone because they made him leave. Italy made Germany's wish his own.

He slid the lock on the door off, creeping towards Japan's room. The door was ajar, the sliding lock on the top allowing him no space to enter. He slipped his hand through the crack, sliding the lock off, the door opening silently. Italy walked into the room, Japan dead asleep. Italy walked over to where his katana sat on a rack, with a various assortment of other weaponry. He grabbed the katana's sheath, sliding the gleaming sword out of it's carrier. He placed the sheath gently on it's holder, gripping the katana in two hands. Gently, he slid the sword on Japan's neck, underneath his jaw. Italy smiled. Japan's eyes flashed open, seeing the sword and it's wielder.

"It seems you've seen me. I, the Italian Veneziano, shall make you my slave in return for me not killing you." He gripped Japan's hand, pulling him off the bed, starting the reputation of infamous Italian Veneziano.

And that's how we all got where we are now. The Italian Veneziano brought even the most powerful countries to their knees, sparing them only because of their will to serve him.

I suppose we'll all end up in the same situation. One moment on our knees begging for mercy, the next waking up in a dark room, stripped to our boxers. We all start that way. When we wake up, there is a maid costume fitted exactly to our size next to us. Some part in us tells us to ignore it and continue sleeping, but another half says to put it on and wait for someone to notice you. Most people fall towards the second one, and people that don't do it, eventually do. A young man in a white coat always comes and fetches them once they've dressed in the outfit. No one knows anything about them. Nor the Italian Veneziano.


	2. Chapter 1

Japan ran around with a feather duster, making sure everything was nice and clean. He had counted the days he had been here, but lost track around 300. His job was to serve around the house until 1, and then he got half an hour of free time to stay with the other victims. He looked at the vintage grandfather clock on the 2nd floor. It was a few minutes away from 1, when he would plan his way to be free. He swept the floors gently, making sure not to miss a spot and receive punishment. The clock struck 1, a gong sounding through the large mansion. Japan quickly looked up, dull eyes brightening. He started running quickly downstairs to the break room, where the maids stayed and slept, as well as spent their half hour. He flung the door open, only to carefully shut it. Japan set the broom against the wall, sitting down in a chair at a small, rounded table. Other maids began to file into the room. Russia, China, France, and England were the only ones that entered. They are currently the only countries to be attacked and survive. Each of them wore frilly maids' outfits identical to Japan's in everything but color. They grabbed a chair and took a seat, sighing and laying their heads on the table.

"Who knew such a small boy like him could be such trouble, _aru_!" China complained, laying his head down on the table.

"It is a pain. But not as much as the look on your faces' when you're begging for mercy." Russia smiled. Japan nodded in agreement, "It is a pain. But I promised Germany to see to his werrl being."

"A monster _mon amie_ has become! Making us wear such pitiful outfits!" France said, annoyed, flipping his hair. England sighed, setting his face against the table, a mutter coming up, "France, we have bigger problems on our hands. Only mentally, but still physically is a problem too." Japan sighed, looking down, "I feerl this is my faurlt. I was torld to keep Itarly safe untirl Germany returned." China got up, going over to the counter, "Almost a year of this, _aru_! I can't take it anymore!" Japan looked down, "Sorry." He spun around, "I didn't mean it like that, _aru_!" England stood up, the chair slamming the ground, calling their attention, "We already have other problems! We don't need infighting!"

"England is right. Being a maid isn't all that bad." Russia smiled, "Because I'll be on top in a while." China walked back over to the table, ready to flip it. "We need a plan to escape. And soon."

"Werrl, sorry. None of us have an idea." Japan sighed, the clock striking one-thirty. The group dispersed in their separate ways. Japan grabbed his broom, about to exit the room, when the speaker came on.

"Japan, Russia, England, report to me!" The Italian Veneziano yelled and hung up. Japan rolled his eyes, leaving the room. He took his time walking up the stairs to the abode of Italy. He met Russia and England halfway up the stairs. None of them met eyes with each other, but they glanced over occasionally. They reached the large double-doors which led to Italy.

"Might as well get this over with." England's gloved hand gripped the knocker, slamming his fist against the door with bone breaking strength. He dropped his hand down to his side, but the doors remained closed. Japan looked at the hand that England was forcing himself to ignore. The black glove was dyed a light red, and it was seeping onto his hand. Russia had a forced smile on his face, trying not to be disappointed by the fact that England's pain was not caused by him. The doors opened with loud creaking as though they had not been used in years. The three of them entered, falling to their knees in a great bow. Italy wore a black tuxedo and long black pants. He had his feet kicked up on a throw pillow, an evil looking smile on his face. England and Japan met eyes during their bow, sending messages through them. Russia smiled, not a care in the world could bother him. Italy swung his legs off the pillow, standing up, hands in his pockets. Japan flinched, squeezing himself tighter to the floor.

"Whatever kinda' person we have in that small room downstairs refuses to do what we ask. Make him do it. I dunno how, just do. And get me more PASTA!" England stayed down, but started towards the door, a soft echo coming up, "Yes. I will get right on it." Italy paced to the other side of the room, near a window, "And...Who's the guy downstairs? I haven't fought in a while to confuse the remaining countries."

"Mr. Itarly, sir. The boy downstairs warlked into here by chance. You never fought a battrle with him." Japan squeezed his eyes, waiting for a broom to land on his head. But one never did. He looked up to find Italy standing over him, deep in thought. He cowered under him, waiting for speech.

"Yeah. Don't have any memories of that. Oh well. Just go get him in a maid's outfit and be done with it."

"Yes, m'rlord. We'rll get right on it." Japan spoke. Russia stood up, bowing and walking backwards out of the room. He followed with grace, softly closing the large double doors. A soft clicking noise sounded as the door closed.

Japan quickly started down the stairs on his tiptoes, his hand hovering above the handrail. They reach the bottom, quick footsteps returning to normal. Russia and Japan stood in front of the door, a silent sobbing coming from inside.

"Alright. Lets just get this over with." Russia gripped the doorknob in a gloved hand, twisting. Light streamed into the dark, damp room. A shadow in the corner shuffled away from the light, slinking farther into the corner.

"It's dark and dusty in here." Russia flipped a light switch on the wall, coughing. The shadowy figure which had been sitting in the corner got up on shaky legs, holding his hands in a surrendering position in front of his chest, "P-p-please don't hurt me! I got here by a-a-accident!" The young man speaking wore socks with the Canadian flag. His boxers were red, the same color as the red part of his socks. He had tan hair similar to America's, and glasses with one part cracked.

"Oh look. Canada is here." Russia smiled, a thick accent covering his speech. Canada shivered in the back of the room. Japan waved his hand, pushing the issue aside, "Canada or not Canada, we have to get him bound."

"That's right. I'll hold him down." Russia walked forward, hands out, fingertips twitching.


	3. Chapter 2

"Horld stirll!" Japan struggled to get Canada's head through the opening. More pressure was added to Canada's shoulders, a small scream escaped his mouth.

"Shouldn't we take this time into thought with an escape plan?" Russia suggested, his evil aura scaring Canada. Japan nodded, still forcing down with the palms of his hands, "Yes. I didn't think about using this time for such a purpose." Canada relaxed, "Escape? We're escaping?" Japan slid the outfit over his head when he relaxed. The pressure on his shoulder was released, falling backwards. Canada's eyes squeezed shut with a momentary feeling of pain before he sat up, rubbing his head. "What I don't understand is why we don't fight back. The countries taken are very strong. And what about the countries who haven't been attacked? Why haven't they come to our aid yet?" Japan put the headdress on Canada, "Why should they? It's not their war to fight, it's ours. And, we can't hurt Itarly, or Germany wirll have our heads."

Canada straightened the frilly headdress, "Then, can't you tempt him with something? A picture of Germany or a cat? Some food?" Japan shook his head, gesturing away the idea, "I don't think that would work. Anyway, just get out of here and do something elrse. Itarly wirll be srleeping soon, so we will have plentlry of time to discuss it." Russia smiled, walking over to the entrance, the light flickering off. Japan quickly got up and followed him out of the room. Canada smiled.

"W-wait! W-what aboot...!" The door slammed, the light from the door gone, "...me..."


	4. Chapter 3

The old grandfather clock on the first floor struck nine, the bells mixing with the ones from upstairs. All of the captured nations started their way down to the break room, even though nothing ever changed. When Japan reached their secret room, everyone had already gathered. No one in the room noticed they were missing their new maid, Canada. England was looking over papers written by others in the group. Japan took the last empty seat, taking quick glances at the paper on the table.

"It's alright, Japan, to take a look. The only reason you will though is to decipher. Why in the bloody hell are they so complicated?" England complained, shuffling a small group of them into a pile. Japan picked up one pile, which suggested giving Italy new clothes. China grabbed the paper from his hand, waving it in anger, "Who's idea was this, _aru_!"

"How dare you bash such an amazing idea, _mon amie!_ It's perfect!" France sat back in his chair, crossing his legs. China crushes the paper into a ball with his hand, "Amazing? Far from it!" He throws it into the recycling bin across the room. England focused more intently on the papers, switching their order, trying to ignore the amazing shot China just did and the fact he didn't do it.

"Woah. I'm sorry I'm late. It took forever to unlock the door without Kumajiro-san." Canada opened the door, one hand without a glove. He entered the room to find everyone bickering and ignoring him. He goes and peaks over Japan's shoulder, seeing the plans to stop Italy. Canada glances around the table to the people fighting. Knowing he won't be noticed, he gathers up the stray papers that weren't gathered in piles. Canada walks over to an unoccupied corner, leaning against it, and slumping to the ground. He pulls out some crayons and starts drawing on the backs of the papers. The battle was starting to get graphic, with punching and blood.

Canada finished the drawings on all the papers, identical ideas on all of them. He gets up, working his way quietly around the fighting groups, placing the papers on all sides of the table. Canada skips over to the wall with the light switch, flicking it on and off. The yelling and fighting stop as the lights flicker. England loosened his grip on the front of France's shirt, his raised fist relaxing. China sits near the wall, petting it with his hand, whispering. They glance at the table, seeing the mysterious drawing of bringing Germany to Italy. England lets go of his shirt, turning to the table covered in the drawings. He picks one up before looking at the others. His face brightens as he looks at the crude crayon drawings. England smacks the paper with the back of his hand, "This plan is amazing! It'd be perfect! Now, which of you idiot's wish to carry out this plan?" They glanced at each other, silence emanating from the room.


End file.
